


everything i ever did was just another way to scream your name

by bothsexuals



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Unrequited Love, at least he thinks so, we know it really isnt so dont be too sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24077407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bothsexuals/pseuds/bothsexuals
Summary: Abed is good at a lot of things. Understanding and processing his emotions isn't always one of those. Thankfully, Annie is there to help.
Relationships: Annie Edison & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir, troy is dating britta but im not going to tag it cause like come on
Comments: 26
Kudos: 204





	everything i ever did was just another way to scream your name

**Author's Note:**

> This is sad, and I am sorry. I don't usually write angst because I live for fluff, softness and tenderness, but I am going through something, and by "going through something" I mean I'm on season 3 and Troy and Britta are dating. In my canon- which kinda slaps honestly- Abed is absolutely heartbroken over it (and he is in the show too, really, did y'all see him break down over this shit?) and it hurts me deeply. I cope by giving him Annie cuddles. 
> 
> Title from "South London Forever" by Florence and the Machine. Honestly if you listen to Florence and the Machine while reading this, like I did while writing it, it hits different. Alternatively, Jana suggested "Not like you" by The Paper Kites, which also hits different.

Abed is sitting in his favorite armchair, eyes fixed on the TV, seeing but not really watching as the main menu of his _Spider-Man_ DVD plays the same song for what could very well be the hundredth time. He should stand up, take the DVD out, maybe put another one in, but he can’t bring himself to. The buttered noodles Annie made him are sitting on what is usually Troy’s chair, cold and long-forgotten. 

His mind feels too quiet and too loud at the same time, countless thoughts blending together into a deafening white noise.

He can feel Annie’s gaze on him from the kitchen; he doesn’t need to look to know she's been glancing at him with that concerned face he knows all too well. He wonders what she must think of him. He wonders whether she’s tired of him yet, whether she’s going to realize that living with him is a burden she doesn't need and move out. Or maybe they’ll just make him move out, that would make more sense.

“Abed?” 

He looks up, surprised to see her standing over him. He hadn’t heard her walk over.

“Abed, are you okay?” 

Her voice sounds so sickeningly sweet it makes Abed want to cry, and that thought makes him want to cry even more, because he seems unable to. No matter how much he feels like he needs to, his eyes remain painfully dry.

“Abed, please, talk to me.” 

She sounds like _she_ might be crying now, and Abed doesn’t want her to. He wants to take her tears and make them his own, then maybe the dreadful weight in his chest would go away.

As she sits down on the armrest, her hand grazes Abed’s thigh; he grabs it with both of his, holds onto it as if it’s the only thing keeping him from floating away. He leans his head against her shoulder and she sighs, probably relieved that he’s given a sort of response.

He realizes she must have turned off the TV at some point before sitting down, and is suddenly aware of how agonizingly loud silence can be.

“I want to cry,” he mutters after a few moments have passed, maybe minutes.

“You can,” Annie replies. 

Abed doesn’t know why she is whispering, but it feels right, so he matches her tone.

“I can’t,” he explains, “and I don’t know why I want to.”

He senses a movement, and looks up to see her turning her head towards Troy’s armchair. He follows her gaze, and something tugs at his chest as he does. 

“Do you think, maybe, it’s because you miss Troy?”

“That doesn’t make sense,” he reasons, his forehead creased as if in thought, “I saw him this morning.” 

She stays silent for a moment, then corrects herself. 

“Do you miss when Troy wasn’t dating Britta?”

He nods, lips pursed in his usual pensive pout, and the weight in his chest feels even heavier.

“Abed, I’m sorry,” she whimpers, and now she really is crying, he can hear it in her voice, “I shouldn’t have pushed them together. I didn’t know how you felt about him. It’s my fault.” 

“It isn’t,” he says matter-of-factly, “you didn’t know. I kept it hidden from you guys due to the frequency of homophobic remarks in our study group. And it’s not your fault I miscalculated Troy’s feelings towards me. I anticipated the possibility that he wouldn’t return my feelings for him, I just didn’t expect it to feel this way.”

“Abed…” she coos pitifully, but he can tell she doesn’t know what to say, so he continues to talk.

He wants to explain what he means; he thinks maybe if she understands better, she won’t feel so bad about his acting weird, which he knows can bother people.

He scours his brain for a way to tell her, but comes up empty. He’s never been good at understanding emotions, his own or others’, but he can usually come up with a movie or TV reference to somewhat make up for it. This time, he feels as he did after getting drunk with Jeff, his usual repertoire of references just out of reach, but in a much less joyful way.

“I do miss him,” he finally settles on saying, “even if it doesn’t make sense. I know he’s going to come back, but I miss him when he’s here, too.” 

He’s silent for a second, then adds, “That makes even less sense.”

“It does make sense,” Annie retorts.

“Why?” he asks, and thinks he hears his own voice uncharacteristically break, “I don’t understand, Annie.”

 _Please explain this to me,_ he doesn’t say, _please tell me why it feels like I’m dying._

She seems to understand anyway, and explains his own inner turmoil to him as she comfortingly rubs the back of his hand with her thumb.

“Before, you almost had him. You weren’t together, but you were as close as it gets without taking that last, terrifying step. The option was there, like you could do it at any time, you know? Now that… someone else has him, you feel like you lost him because that option isn’t open anymore.”

She sounds sad, and Abed believes she might be speaking from experience. Maybe he’s not so weird, then; maybe this is normal if Annie has felt it, too. 

“That weight you feel in your chest,” she says, and Abed wonders for a second if she’s telepathic, but writes it off quickly, remembering she’s simply one of the smartest people he knows, “that’s your love for him. It hurts now, Abed, but it won’t hurt forever. I promise.” 

He feels an unfamiliar wetness in his eyes and is perplexed to realize that tears have started to stream down his cheeks. He smiles, sad and comforted at the same time. 

“Thank you,” he says, winding his arms around Annie’s waist, “thank you, Annie.”

He draws her closer, seeking solace in her friendly warmth, then closer still, causing her to fall onto his lap. She settles into the new position easily, drapes her arms around him, dangles her leg over the side of the chair. Abed hides his face into the crook of her neck and she allows him to dampen her shirt with his tears as she sympathetically strokes his hair. 

He doesn’t let go once he’s run out of tears, but his grip around her relaxes and his breaths become less shallow and strained. He falls asleep after a while, weighed down by the exhaustion of heartbreak, resting his head on the back of the chair as he holds Annie to his chest like a beloved childhood blanket. She covers him gladly, wanting nothing more than to bring her friend some peace of mind. 

She looks towards the door when she hears it open, and shushes Troy before he can even make a sound. He’s confused for only a second before he sees his friend’s sleeping form, and closes the door as quietly as he possibly can.

Annie can’t seem to look away as he walks closer, until he is standing over them, making her feel oddly small and protective of the man in her arms. She watches a frown slowly form on his face as he studies Abed’s features; she wonders if he can see the tear tracks, wonders if he knows what caused their emotionally detached friend to feel so intensely. 

She sees a veil of hurt fall over Troy’s eyes, and thinks he must.

“I’m sorry,” he brokenly whispers, and Annie can tell he’s not talking to her.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, okay? I promise I will write a soft, happy one soon to make up for this. If you enjoyed this on any level please leave kudos and/or a comment. And don't worry: trobed endgame.


End file.
